


Asphyxiation

by stillskies



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 13:05:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillskies/pseuds/stillskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Daiki, basketball is more than a sport: it's as intrinsic as breathing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Asphyxiation

For Daiki, basketball is more than a game; it is life, it gives him meaning, it is purpose. It's as intrinsic as breathing. Without it, he suffocates. The thrill, the exhilaration of a perfectly executed play, the tension that thrums through his body as the ball leaves his fingers and arcs through the air towards the basket – that is what he is. _Who_ he is. And everyone knows it.

He is adrenaline and tension and frustration. He is a sculpture of bruises and sprains, a testament to hours and hours on the court and on the track, training and training and training until he cannot train anymore, and then it's one more lap, one more shot. Always one more.

Each loss is favored as an opportunity, a way to improve. He replays those games in his head, over and over and over, twisting and turning in his head, readjusting a position here, a screen there. It's a little like flying and a lot like falling – the ups and downs of the game, the stolen passes, the missed shots.

Until it is not.

Until it becomes a day missed here, a pick-up game forgotten there. Until he's flying, flying, flying, with no chance to fall. He attempts nonchalance, shrugs Tetsu's concern off even as his fingers itch for the feel of tack beneath them. Sometimes, he feels as though he cannot breathe, as though he is asphyxiating with each ignored day. A week passes, then two, and he moonlights as a baller on the court and becomes nothing off of it.

Without basketball, Aomine Daiki is nothing, but Daiki will never be a footnote. He sits back as his reputation builds around him, as whispers pervade the halls. _Did you hear?_ they say, _Aomine is so good he doesn’t even need to practice._

"You've been skipping practices a lot, Aomine-kun."

_He's unstoppable,_ they breathe. _No one can match him._

"It's not like I need to practice, Tetsu. The more I practice, the stronger I become. It's boring."

_Did you see that? 60 points in the first half._

"I'm sure someone will come along who can beat you, Aomine-kun."

_Are they even trying to stop him?_

"Yeah, you're probably right."

But he only ever sees defeat. They can't match him, could never match him, and he rolls through them, liquid grace and breathtaking form. He doesn't recognize his basketball anymore – doesn't recognize himself. Somehow, he has become a tyrant on the court, striking from nowhere to crush the opposition in a manner that leaves no question as to the victor.

There are no close games.

(There are no games.

Not anymore.)

Tetsu's gaze burns his nape. They are surrounded by players hunched over in despair, an ugly bow in recognition of what his basketball has become. Tetsu's fist hangs in the air between them.

"You were wrong, Tetsu," he says, and the bows deepen at the sound of his voice, until he thinks they may prostrate themselves along the floor. "The only one who can beat me is me."

For Daiki, basketball is more than a game; it is ruthless and arrogant, it is crushing defeat. It is victory and triumph and stale. It is boring, so very boring, and lonely. He is suffocating without knowing it, the court wide and narrow and oh so confined. Basketball is what Daiki is, and he'll make sure everyone knows it.


End file.
